


Orchid Hunter

by commandles



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Pirate fluff, also the word 'softly' appears 11 times apparently, and then gently 4 times, blood dripping on things, it's just fluff, kara is a broody pirate, lena is a skilful captain, so it's That Soft, so just be warned there, soft salty pirate fluff, there's also some reference to blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-19 15:34:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22246624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/commandles/pseuds/commandles
Summary: Lena is a rich, cocky captain of an orchid-hunting ship. Kara is a pirate for justice on a small boat.
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 3
Kudos: 89





	Orchid Hunter

Lena could hear the sails flapping softly against the gentle breeze, and the creak of the wooden deck as the ship settled. Moonlight flooded her high aft windows. The light of the candles at her writing desk flickered over her leather journal as she carefully sketched her most recent find.

Since Bolivia, she hadn’t been able to sleep much. Instead, she would awake in the night from vivid flashbacks - the cold, the wildlife, and all the death - and be unable to get back to sleep. Tonight, she had been visited by the beheaded child and the chilling vision of her brother, Alexander, standing over the boy. As on other nights, her most vivid dreams has been of the frenetic gleam in Alexander’s eye and of his dagger dripping blood onto a white marble floor. And the sound, the sound of someone in the distance screaming. Lena shivered, and not against the cold. 

From somewhere below her, there came a loud, dull thud. It sounded like they hit something, or perhaps someone had fallen out of bed. She strained to hear more, but the ship returned to its silent rocking against the waves. All she could hear was the click-clack of the pulleys as the sheets shifted. 

She stood up from her chair and went to the window. She could see the vast ocean behind them illuminated in the moonlight as it sparkled on the low waves. There was nothing there. Once a humpback whale had walloped against the hull with a similar thud, but there was no sign of any fin or tail. 

She scanned the deep, blue-grey horizon once more, before turning back towards her room. It was a room fit for a king. Lavish cloth draped from the four-poster bed, embroidered with fine silk in scenes of her travels. Her desk was a dark, polished oak with extravagant gold fittings, including the intricate puzzle mechanism of her locking drawer in which she kept her journals. Her chair was made of plush red velvet and stood atop a delicate Chinese needlepoint rug in matching red and gold tones. Her large wardrobe, fixed to the wall with a thick chain after it once fell in a rough storm, was practically bursting with finery, so much so that the boxes for her top hats had to sit on the floor to the side.

Lena strode to the door. The cool, salty air caught her as she eased the door open and stepped out onto the upper deck. James, a young deckhand, stood just outside, his eyes scanning the ocean and the deck before them. His back went rigid when he realised Lena was standing beside him.

“Captain!” he squealed, moving his boot heels together with a sharp click. He turned towards her but held his gaze firmly on the deck.

“Did you hear that sound?” she asked him. “About a minute ago?”

He didn’t dare look up. “No, Captain. I ain’t heard nothing. I promise.”

“Not in the cabin, you swine. That thud.”

“No, Sir.” 

“Do me a favour, take a couple of other hands with you and head below deck to check on the cargo. If Beatty is into the sherry again, we don’t want a repeat of the Peru incident.”

“Yes, Sir,” said James, his voice cracking as he spoke. James was afraid of Mr. Beatty when he was drunk. All of the hands were. Regardless, he headed off down the stairs to recruit Simons, who was sitting idly against the rail on the lower deck.

Lena gazed out at the ocean before them. It was calm and smooth, ruffled only by tiny whitecaps whipped up in the low breeze. In the very distance, land was only just visible in the blue tinge of the night, fading slowly into the sea. There were no other ships. No other islands. No other signs of life. Perhaps she had just heard a shifting of the bones of the ship after all.

With a last glance at the brilliant array of stars, Lena stepped back into her room and eased the door closed quietly. She paused, listening to the muffled voices of James, Simons and the other men calling to each other below deck. 

“Halt!” cried an unfamiliar voice behind her. She felt the cool metallic press of a blade against her bare neck. As instructed, she stood perfectly still. Her breath was very even when she spoke. 

“Maarten, for the hundredth time, the crew has to like you if you want this mutiny thing to work out.” With a smile, Lena turned around where she stood, the cold blade tracking across her neck as she went.

It was not Maarten. Lena’s breath caught in her throat. 

**

Standing before Lena was what can only be described as a pirate. Long, black boots. Tight, torn pants with dull blood stains on both thighs. A short dagger tied crudely to one leg with a knotted handkerchief. A huge, baggy undershirt, with a sword-shaped rip across the bicep. Even a badly-healed scar across one cheekbone. 

This pirate, however, was a bit different from the ones described in Lena’s childhood story books, and certainly different from the ones she saw being picked by crows at the entrances to harbours. Down their back was a long, golden plait, thick with salt. A few stray wisps of golden hair fell across the pirate’s face. Not to mention the vivid colour of their blue eyes.

“You’re not Maarten,” said Lena.

“No,” smiled the pirate softly.

“You’re a woman,” said Lena.

“Well, you shouldn’t assume things like that just from someone’s appearance,” said the pirate, “but, yes.”

“And what can I do for you, madam?” Lena asked, giving a sarcastic bow. Her grin gave her away.

The pirate, echoing the tone of Lena’s smile, gave the sword against Lena’s throat a little flick. Lena had her head bowed, so the sword whipped up and sliced casually into Lena’s left cheek. It drew blood.

“Oh, a serious pirate!” Lena laughed, standing back up. “Sorry, I should have known.”

“Where’s Roezl?” asked the pirate.

“Below deck, probably,” said Lena softly, feeling a warm ooze of blood rolling down her sliced cheek. She willed herself not to reach for it. “But let me save you the trouble. Just take whatever it is that you want.”

The pirate seemed to be tracking Lena’s eyes with hers, checking for a lie. 

“We have the rarest specimens on earth,” Lena continued, holding the pirate’s ocean-blue stare. “Never before discovered. You could be a very rich woman. You could have  _ orchids _ named after you. Your name would go down in history.”

The pirate still said nothing.

“Or,” said Lena, aware of her own verbosity, “gold. Diamonds. Look, you could have this necklace I’m wearing.”

Lena reached up with her right hand towards her neck. The pirate twitched the sword against Lena’s throat in warning. 

“Okay, okay,” responded Lena. With a sly grin creeping across her face, she moved her hand from her necklace and raised both in mock surrender. The pirate’s eyes shot immediately to Lena’s missing left hand, and then back to Lena’s face with a searing, searching look.

“Surprise,” said Lena with a wiggle of her right fingers, as if to drive the message home.

“Oh,” said the pirate. For a split second, she lowered her sword in surprise. 

That was all Lena needed. She ducked nimbly away from the sharp blade. The pirate swung after her, but she was too late. Lena danced under her swing and then, while the pirate was off balance, kicked wildly out at the back of the pirate’s legs. The pirate buckled to the carpet. With a grunt of effort, Lena jammed her knee into the pirate’s gut. The pirate’s sword clanged to the floor. 

But as Lena drew away, the pirate grabbed onto her legs and hauled her to the ground. Lena gasped as she hit the deck, winded. The pirate lunged at her, but Lena managed to roll out of the way. She felt the cold steel of the sword’s handle against her leg. With another dodge, she grabbed the sword and leapt to her feet.

“Stop,” she said softly, brandishing the blade at the pirate. 

Just then, James burst through the door, his pistol drawn, the door crashing wildly against the wall.

“Captain!” James cried. “There’s a - oh!” He spotted Lena standing, her nightclothes askew, her hair now unravelled into a long, black mane down her back, holding a pirate at swordpoint. 

“Were you going to say there’s been an attack, James?” smiled Lena.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Thank you, James,” Lena said. “That’s very helpful.” 

Then Mr. Beatty followed James into the room, sheathing his dagger with a wipe against his pants. He smiled at the sight of Lena holding the pirate captive so nonchalantly. 

“How many others were there?” asked Lena quickly.

“Only three. They said they wanted Roezl.”

“Yes, so did this one,” said Lena, jabbing the sword closer to the pirate, who flinched.

“Did you do the finger guns or the handshake?” Beatty asked, smiling.

“The false surrender,” said Lena, holding her left arm up to show him. She flashed a playful look at Beatty.

“A classic,” said Beatty. “Gets them every time.”

“I would have thought you might know better,” Lena said, prodding the pirate in the shoulder with the end of the sword. 

The pirate said nothing. She just flicked her eyes defiantly away from Lena’s, still keeping a wary eye on the sword.

Beatty turned around suddenly and kicked out at James, who yelped out of the way in fright like a startled seagull. “Don’t just stand there, mongrel, get the shackles!”

James scuttled out of the room.

**

Lena came out onto the deck to survey the damage. As reported, the crew had three other pirates bound up against the mast and the railings. They looked more scraggly than the woman from Lena’s cabin. Their unwashed, wispy hair and their scarred skin was more like what Lena had been expecting. Several of the deckhands lounged around beside them. 

Simons was taunting one with the tip of his dagger, pretending to slice the blade into various parts of the captive pirate’s body. Lena clipped him around the ear as she came past, making some of the other hands snigger. 

Beatty showed her where the pirates’ boat was roped to theirs. It was tiny. It had one, triangular mainsail, patched together in several places and tattered badly on the edges, and a small jib to the front of the mast in matching condition. 

Lena was surprised that  _ two _ people could fit into it, let alone the four they had received. As she glanced over the boat, it knocked lightly into the side of her ship with the ripple of the sea. She recognised the sound at once.

She hopped over the side of the Reign and landed lightly in the boat below, absorbing the drop with a sharp bend in her knees. Beatty peered over the edge of the rail as Lena began rummaging through the small pirate ship. She found a wooden bailer, several mismatched oars, a length of stiff rope, an old sextant, and several charts. She unrolled one of the charts, and just by glancing over it once, she could tell that it was over twenty years old. 

Then, underneath a crate of pickling jars, she found a silver flask wrapped in a cracked strip of leather. She fiddled it open skillfully and took a deep sniff. It was rum. She laughed at the cliche. They were definitely pirates, even if the woman did not look like one.

“Neither do you,” Lena muttered to herself under her breath as she screwed the lid back onto the flask. As she leaned into the last few twists of the lid, her firm grip unravelled the crude leather sheath, and it fell to the floor of the boat. Beneath the wrappings, a name was engraved into the flask in small, looping letters.

As Lena deftly swung herself back onto the deck, she tossed the flask at Beatty. Beatty caught it and rolled it over in his hands. A small gasp escaped his lips when he saw the name.

“We’ll start with this,” said Lena.

“Christ,” said Beatty. “Who do you want to start with?”

“The woman,” said Lena. She could feel the knowing looks from the crew. 

“Obviously,” she added with a wink. She turned to look at James, who immediately looked away, blushing. Beatty just chuckled.

“I’m the captain!” called one of the pirates suddenly, bound against the mast not far away. It was the one that Simons had been prodding earlier. He had hair so oily it was difficult to tell what colour it was. “You have no business harming my crew,” he said.

Lena sighed, and turned around to face him. Simons looked up at Lena, and Lena gave him a look. Simons’ dagger seemed to appear from nowhere, and in one smooth motion, he stabbed it deep into the soft tissue of the pirate’s shoulder. The pirate yelped in pain.

“Besides,” said Lena, turning back to Beatty. “I wouldn’t send one of my idiots after a captain, so why would she?”

**

Lena pulled the door to her cabin closed behind her with a soft click. The moon was still bright against the star-peppered sky, bathing the room in a soft blue light. In the middle of the room, illuminated by the shards of light on her faded white shirt, was the pirate with the long, blonde hair. 

The crew had attached her wrists with heavy iron shackles and looped the chain over a large steel bolt on one of the ceiling beams. They had left her legs unshackled, which proved to be a mistake. The pirate had her legs wrapped around the hefty front feet of the desk chair and was dragging it across the floor towards herself, dangling by her arms from the ceiling.

“That’s quite the acrobatic routine,” said Lena, startling the pirate, but she did not look around. She simply carried on heaving the chair towards herself, straining against the chain with the effort.

“Five more minutes,” said the pirate between heavy breaths, “and I would have had it, too.”

“I can see that,” said Lena with a laugh. She stepped over to the chair, placing her hand upon the high back. The pirate looked up at her, catching her eye for the first time since she was captured. Lena looked back with the same searching intensity, and the pirate unwound her legs from the chair without protest. Then, Lena dragged the chair backwards to the edge of the pirate’s reach, and sat down into it heavily.

“Okay,” said Lena, “I’ve got a few theories about why you are here. Would you like to play a game where I tell you my ideas and you tell me which one is correct?”

The pirate, who had maintained her cool until this moment, seemed suddenly disarmed by Lena’s charm. She began to blush, and she looked away from Lena’s cool gaze. Lena smiled to herself.

Then the pirate said, “oh, golly, miss, would I ever love to play a game!” She gave a deep, phlegmy hoick and spat at Lena’s feet.

Lena’s grin grew as she shook her head.

“Well, since you’re so excited for a game, I’d be only too happy to oblige,” said Lena. She could have sworn she saw the pirate smirking.

“My first theory was ‘dead lover’,” said Lena. She paused, studying the pirate’s reaction, but she gave nothing away. “It’s an old favourite of mine, because I’ve had it three times before.”

“But then I thought about it, and the last time a woman died even remotely close to us was in Havana. Clearly, you are more of a hit with the ladies, if you know what I mean,” said Lena, gesturing to no part of the pirate’s body in particular, “and quite clearly, with that tan you’ve got going on, you have not been anywhere near Havana for a long time.”

Lena was studying the pirate closely but so far had only caught the hint of a smile at the lesbian joke, and nothing else.

“But then I thought,” continued Lena, “you knew my name, and you knew my reputation,” she said, holding up her missing hand. “But you had boldly assumed that a man could run an operation this successful. So either you hadn’t met me before, or your powers of observation leave something wanting.  _ Clearly,” _ said Lena, really leaning in to her performance now, “you are dangerously sharp. You have to be, to get a crew of men to actually listen to you instead of just telling you how to pirate all the time.”

The pirate smirked again.

“So, when someone hasn’t met me but wants to find me, when  _ that _ happens, it’s usually that you’ve come after a plant.”

“Quite the story,” said the pirate. 

“Thank you,” said Lena with a sarcastic bow. She flopped one of her legs up over the handrail of the chair and leaned back into it. “How close was I?”

“50%,” said the pirate. “I liked the joke about the men. And you are right,” she left a heavy pause, just watching Lena. Then, once Lena’s gaze was clearly locked on hers, she ran her eyes suggestively over Lena’s body. “I haven’t been to Havana.”

“Saucy,” said Lena with a knowing grin, “but a little much, don’t you think? Don’t think for a second I’m letting you flirt your way out of this just because you look  _ Like That _ .” 

Plus,” continued Lena, “I came up with a much better theory.”

“Is that right?” said the pirate.

Lena nodded with false sincerity, and casually tossed the silver flask to the pirate. “Then I thought, maybe, just maybe, you came for revenge. I don’t know what brought on such an idea, but I just had this  _ feeling. _ ”

That got her. For just a split second, the pirate’s brow furrowed and her eyes widened with panic. Lena just sat and watched, splayed powerfully across her chair. The look was gone again in a flash.

“And all I can say,” said Lena, “is that I am not surprised you’re here.”

**

The wind was starting to pick up. Lena could feel the Reign tugging against her directions. Below her position at the helm, Beatty was bellowing instructions to the hands, who were scuttling around the lower decks. With a rhythmic, mechanical clunking, she could hear the arms of the capstan being locked into place, ready to hoist the mainsail. 

Then, she heard a familiar thudding sound, and realised the world’s smallest pirate ship was still knocking about on the starboard side. Beatty, who was never far behind Lena’s thoughts, glanced at the boat and began to bark instructions, pointing its way.

“Wait!” cried Lena, her voice carrying easily to him on the wind. He glanced at her, and she motioned for him to come back to the helm.

“Leave the dinghy there a minute!” she said to him as he came up the steps. “And take this!”

Before he could respond, she let go of the wheel, and immediately the ship began to lurch to the port side. The mainsail began to go limp, and the crew began to shout up to Beatty. Without thinking, he grabbed the wheel and began to bellow orders as he tugged the ship back on course.

Lena burst into her cabin. The pirate jumped in fright and turned around to see what the noise was. There, in her hands, were the chains that were supposed to be around her wrists. She had tied one of Lena’s very expensive bed sheets to one of the handcuffs.

“What were you going to do, climb out the window?” Lena cried.

“Of course not,” said the pirate, glancing at the window she had opened a minute ago.

“Well, new plan,” said Lena.

“No,” said the pirate.

“Listen, best case scenario,” said Lena, crossing to her desk, heart pounding, “none of the thirty-plus crew notice you crawling around the side of the ship. But then what? They also don’t notice you sailing off into the distance, and they also don’t decide to fire on their escaping prisoner?”

Lena reached under the desk for the un-catching mechanism. The pirate looked to Lena, and then to the door that she was no longer blocking. Lena was lost in concentration as she fiddled with the desk.

“And you are welcome to try the door if you like,” Lena continued, pressing the golden button with a small click. “Beatty is steering the ship, right outside the door.”

Lena pressed delicately against the sides of the bottom drawer. With a sharp click, the drawer sprang open an inch. Lena grabbed for the handle and ripped it open. She scraped around amongst the journals and various pieces of jewellery. A large, loose ruby rolled across her hand.

The pirate glanced to the door, and to the open window. Her brow furrowed.

Lena’s hand finally landed on a stained piece of parchment, folded into a small square and stiff with dust. She eased it out from behind an overstuffed leather journal from her trip to Bolivia, careful not to wipe it through the blood stains. 

“Do you trust me?” asked Lena quickly.

“Nope!” laughed the pirate softly. “I came here to capture you, remember? For dastardly crimes?”

Lena held the piece of parchment out to the pirate. “No you didn’t,” she whispered. “You came here for this.” 

She unfolded it carefully, revealing a faded, crudely drawn chart. Several ink splotches and smudges suggested it was not made by a mapmaker. The random assortment of islands suggested a location somewhere in the Caribbean.

“I’ve seen better maps,” said the pirate in a low tone.

“Better maps don’t mean as much to you as this one, perhaps.”

The pirate seemed to consider whether to continue to bluff. “No,” she said finally. “But you have no reason to give it to me.”

“It’s yours.” Lena strode from behind the desk, thrusting the map towards the pirate.

The pirate paused. She searched Lena’s face.

“You expect me to believe that? You wouldn’t give up your own brother.”

“For anyone else, no,” said Lena softly. “But for you? Anything.”

The two captains stood like that for a moment, the pirate sizing up Lena, and Lena extending her arm towards the pirate, clutching the splotchy map in her outstretched hand.

“Why?” said the pirate, too softly for Lena to hear.

“So here’s the plan,” said Lena at the same time. 

The pirate kept her eyes trained on the map as she listened. 

**

“Beatty!” screamed Lena as the doors of her cabin burst open. 

Beatty was still at the helm. He spun around. The pirate had one powerful arm wrapped around Lena’s throat, and the other pressing an intricately carved pistol to Lena’s temple. The pirate inched Lena forward out of the doorway.

“Easy, tiger,” called the pirate, smiling at Beatty. “Let us go free, and no harm will come to her.”

Beatty’s face gave little away, but his eyes went straight to Lena’s, questioning.

“Remember Barbados?” called Lena, shooting him a stern look. “Just let us go, Beatty.”

“Quiet!” cried the pirate, jerking Lena’s head to the side to cut her off.

“A little aggressive!” Lena hissed under her breath.

“What the fuck is Barbados?” the pirate hissed back.

“Just trust me!” 

Beatty held up his right hand in surrender as he holstered his gun with his left. 

“Okay,” he called to the pirate. “We have no problems here.” He raised both hands in front of him.

Several members of the crew were now looking on, their sheets left unattended. Slowly, the pirate eased herself and Lena across the wide quarterdeck. The pirate did not take her eyes off Beatty as she guided them down the stairs.

“Sir, do something!” James cried. He fumbled against his belt for a weapon.

“The Captain can take perfectly good care of herself, boy!” yelled Beatty, a threatening tone in his voice.

James, still panicking, momentarily forgot his fear of Beatty, and drew his dagger.

Simons lunged for James and grabbed him around the arms. He locked his hands together, trapping James’ arms against his body. James struggled against him, but could not pull free.

“Get off!” James spat at him.

“Don’t you dare,” Simons hissed back. “She called Barbados.”

As they scuffled, the pirate slipped herself and Lena down the last step and along the rail towards the small boat. It still lolled against the side of the bigger ship, tied to the rail with a tattered rope. The pirate sidled along the rail until they came alongside it.

“Get in!” the pirate yelled dramatically across the ship. Her eyes danced across the crew. Now, they had all stopped to watch. James was no longer struggling against Simons, but Simons had not released his hold. Otherwise, nobody moved. Nobody drew a weapon. Nobody moved towards them at all.

The pirate released her hold on Lena and thrust her against the railing. Lena hesitated, glancing around at the crew. She looked up at Beatty. She wasn’t sure if he could see this far. She wasn’t sure if he understood. But then he gave her a smile, slipped his hand inside his sleeve and waved goodbye to her with his arm. She laughed and shot him a wink. Then, without another word, she leapt nimbly over the rail and down into the small ship. 

The pirate pointed the pistol over the edge towards Lena, checking she had cleared the way. Then, she held the gun up towards the crew, almost daring them to move. They didn’t. She untied the rope from the boat as they watched on, unfazed.

With a quick swing of her leg, the pirate hopped up onto the rail and stepped off the edge dramatically. She landed softly beside the tiller. Lena sat lazily in the bow, grinning softly.

“Told you so,” said Lena with a smirk.

The pirate gave the rope a sharp tug, and it fell away from the Reign and down into the small boat.

“Yeah, yeah,” said the pirate, grabbing onto the tiller and easing the boat away from the larger ship. She pointed to a rope next to Lena. “Loose that one, would you?”

**

The mainsail was up and pulled tight against the wind. The small boat cut through the waves, spraying a fine mist of salty water across the two women as they headed back towards land. In the distance, the Reign was just a mirage against the horizon, its large white sails a tiny speck against the pale yellow shards of the rising sun. 

“I’m sorry about your brother,” said Lena gently, glancing at the pirate at the tiller.

The pirate said nothing. She just stared into the ocean ahead, clearly far away.

“It still haunts me, too,” Lena said. She watched the pirate’s face furrow with memories as she looked straight past Lena and out to sea.

They sat in silence for a while, listening to the sparse sounds of the boat cutting smoothly across the sea.

“I had to clean the blood off the floor,” said the pirate after a while. Lena winced, and searched the pirate’s face. The pirate turned to meet Lena’s gaze, and even now, eleven years later, tears had come immediately to the pirate’s eyes. She looked straight at Lena as she spoke.

“I just remember this feeling of wiping, and it just moving around in this smear because the towel was so full of it. I have never looked at white marble the same.”

“I’m so sorry,” said Lena. It didn’t feel like enough. “Something happened to Lex. He saw some things, I think. In Bolivia, he just lost it.”

The pirate said nothing.

“I still have nightmares about the look in his eye when he, you know …. It was terrifying. It was like he was enjoying it.”

The pirate just nodded, tears streaming down her face now, years of pain falling gently across her cheeks.

“On our way home we landed at this tiny island, just a volcano sticking up out of the ocean, some trees. We needed water. When Lex went to shore, I called the crew together. We knew there was water there. Food. We voted to leave him there.”

Lena paused, and then said, “the vote was unanimous.”

The pirate searched her face, watching as the pain of the decision crossed Lena’s eyes.

“We were the only ones who knew where he was. I told him it was best if nobody knew, except us. That people would be coming for him. The governor’s son. In the governor’s house, you know?”

The pirate nodded now, and said, “not your everyday murder.”

“No,” said Lena softly, kindly. “Not your everyday murder.”

“And now you’re selling him out,” said the pirate. She wiped her face with her loose, white sleeve. Her tears had stopped now.

“For the first year, I woke up at least three times every night with the sound of your scream just sort of echoing in an otherwise empty nightmare,” said Lena matter-of-factly. “Just the sound of pure, pure grief. I think I always knew I wouldn’t fight it, if you came for him.”

“Thank you,” said the pirate. She stared into Lena’s eyes as she said it, as if desperate for her to really hear it.

Lena just nodded, and turned back to face the sunrise, the top of the sun just edging over the horizon in a brightly-coloured display. The light danced on the tops of the waves, dazzlingly bright. Lena squinted against them as the boat lurched. Salty ocean spray licked up from the sea and showered her in a light mist.

“I don’t know how you live like this,” teased Lena, trying to ease the tension, wiping the spray from her face.

The pirate chuckled, but did not respond, still far away.

“What’s your name, by the way?” asked Lena, turning to face the pirate with a cheeky smile. 

The pirate glanced at Lena and smirked, and still said nothing. She just held tightly to the tiller, carefully scanning the horizon, and glancing every so often at the mainsail. 

“Well, I’m Lena Luthor,” said Lena after a moment. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“What’s Barbados?” said the pirate suddenly.

“It’s an island. It’s in the Caribbean,” laughed Lena, knowing full well that was not what the pirate meant.

The pirate just watched Lena, smiling at the joke, waiting for the real response.

“We had our fair share of pirates,” Lena conceded, turning to watch the ocean. “Once, we were attacked off the coast of Barbados. We had a huge shipment of orchids on board. I mean  _ huge _ . Just like this one now, where most of them had never been ‘discovered’ by Europe. So we had been expecting some kind of attack.”

“Their ship was almost bigger than ours. We saw them coming a mile away. So Beatty and I came up with this plan. I packed heavy. Knives everywhere. I stuck as many knives down my knickers as I could fit. Let me tell you, it is awkward to walk with a blade up against your bits like that.”

The pirate laughed.

“Then I put on this  _ huge _ , cream-coloured dress. I had never worn it, and I haven’t worn it since. I looked like a noblewoman from Port Royal, you know.”

“Puffy,” said the pirate with a knowing smile.

“Exactly.  _ Fancy. _ It was awful. And then when the pirates came aboard, we got a few of them, but mostly our guys were done for in about five minutes. The whole ship surrendered. And Beatty was up at the helm, pretending to be me. He even had one of his hands tied up inside his sleeve. That’s all they know about Roezl, right? Nobody knows about all of this.” Lena gestured to her own body with a sort of alluring wiggle.

The pirate laughed again.

“And here I was, this poor damsel in distress. They didn’t even bother tying me up.”

“Men,” said the pirate, nodding knowingly.

“ _ Men _ !” Lena echoed. “So easily fooled. Anyway, Beatty and I had this whole act where he got captured and then I pretended to be super upset, crying, yelling, weeping, everything. So they took me hostage, hoping this Beatty-Roezl character would negotiate if his  _ woman _ was captured. He said no, like we planned, and so they took me below to put me in the hold with the other prisoners.”

“Below deck on the Reign is pretty cramped, so as soon as they couldn’t outnumber me, I attacked. They never saw it coming. I killed every single one of them.” Lena swallowed, uncomfortable with the memory.

There was a long silence.

“We do what we have to do,” said the pirate gently. 

Lena nodded, smiling sadly over at the pirate.

The pirate watched Lena for a while, in between checking the sails. Then, out of nowhere, she let go of the tiller. She crossed the tiny boat to Lena in two short steps.

Lena looked up at her, a quizzical look on her face. The pirate said nothing. She just sat down beside Lena.

Suddenly, the pirate was very close to Lena. She had a small smile on her face. She glanced at Lena’s lips.

“I knew it,” said Lena with a smirk, very aware of the pirate’s eyes. Lena reached out and took the pirate’s cheek in her hand. 

The pirate smiled, and leaned in, kissing Lena very gently. She tasted like salt. 

“My name’s Kara,” said the pirate softly, still close to Lena’s lips. 

Lena smiled and kissed her again as the tiny ship headed for the sunrise.


End file.
